Medusa Eyes, Medusa Hearts
by Firefly Fairy In A Bottle
Summary: Sometimes, Whittany hates her sister. A follow-up to "Door-Jammed", implied WhittanyBlythe.


Sometimes Whittany hates her sister.

"How long were you trapped in that bathroom again?" Brittany shrieks, her feet moving back and forth along pink carpet. She turns to Whittany, eyes wide in _horror_. "Like, _hours_?"

"More like half of one," Whittany replies, crossing one leg over the other. She's perched on the edge of her pink-and-white bed with the lace blanket. Which, in truth, is really only for decoration. She doesn't need a little lacy blanket on her bed. It's _cute_, and she _likes_ it, but she doesn't _need _it.

"And you're sure you're _okay_?"

Whittany sighs, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. "I _guess_." She honestly doesn't see what the big deal is. Yeah, she had acted like getting trapped in the bathroom with Blythe was _the end of the world_, but the charade didn't last very long, simply because Whittany enjoyed Blythe's company. Whittany just enjoys Blythe in general.

Brittany's saying something, but Whittany doesn't bother to listen. Something about Baxter and "catching the weirdness." To be honest, Whittany doesn't think Blythe's weirdness is that bad. It's… endearing, in a way. Reassuring. Like it's just telling Whittany to _let go_ for once—like all that stupid rich people stuff doesn't matter. Like she can just hang out with Blythe and not have to worry about what her sister might think, or how her reputation would be, like, totally _ruined_.

She can just hang out with Blythe, and that'd be fine, because Whittany likes Blythe. Blythe doesn't care if people dye their hair, or really like frilly, girl junk, or if they snort when they laugh or spill drinks on her pretty new dress. She just lets them be, and tries not to let the rude people get to her.

Whittany really hopes she didn't get to Blythe. She doesn't want to be so rude, but what Brittany says goes. And Brittany says twins act exactly alike. Whittany knows that isn't true, but she doesn't argue.

Brittany lets Whittany feel like she has all the power; lets her feel like she's the leader; but Whittany knows the truth. Brittany holds a lot of power over her, simply by repeating the same simple phrase over and over.

"_I'm older!"_ And it was true. Brittany Biskit was the eldest sister by four-and-a-half minutes, but it didn't mean she acted older. Brittany was a spacey, nasty pain-in-the-ass, and sometimes Whittany just wanted her to leave her alone. But Brittany never went away, because they were not only sisters, but _twins_, and therefore they had to be one and the same.

Whittany knows they're not. Brittany's room is black and white and edgy and cool, while Whittany's room is pink and frilly and girly and _cute_. Brittany could blast through a calculus question in seconds (if given the right metaphor), but Whittany could work on it all day and _still_ get it wrong. Brittany could talk about boys all day, but Whittany just… can't.

(She could talk about Blythe all day, but Brittany doesn't wanna hear about that "backstabber.")

"_Whitt_any. Are you even, like, _listening_?"

Whittany forces herself to look at her sister, letting Brittany's medusa eyes turn her to stone. Doesn't matter. At this point, she's gotten used to it. "Uh, _yeah_."

"Then what was I, like, talking about?"

Whittany knew this one. "That I shouldn't ever go near Blythe, because she's a dirty, lying, _weird_ little backstabber." The whole spiel sounded monotonous at this point.

From the corner of her eye, Whitany can see her sister's smug grin. "Ex_actly_, Whittany, and I never wanna see you with her _ever_ again." She nears Whittany's door, twisting the doorknob and dragging it open. "Got it?"

"_Yes,_ Brittany."

Brittany smiles her little gorgon smile. "Good! I'll see ya."

The door shuts with a deafening slam, and Whittany stares at her hands, which are placed firmly atop her lap. She knows Brittany doesn't _mean_ to act so vile. It's just the way she is. She's always been lazy and unmotivated, and Whittany just has to follow suit because Brittany says so.

Whittany knows that "what Brittany says goes," is not the natural order of things. If things were natural, Whittany would go to school in the clothes _she_ likes—all those dresses that are filling the closet with no real purpose. She would get a haircut or just let her hair grow out, and would hardly associate with her sister at all. She would spend the school day hanging out with Blythe and her friends (who are probably pretty nice, though Whittany can't help but be jealous).

If things were natural, Whittany would be happy.

But Brittany is, like, _so_ not into natural, and sometimes Whittany hates her.


End file.
